


The Queen's Loyal Servants

by CanadianGarrison



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Adultery, Aramis is also kind of a Boy Scout, Aramis is always cold, Aramis is the best kind of slut, Aramis would totally know where to get hash, Athos likes to watch, Athos performs for his Queen, Come play, Dirty Talk, Don’t worry nobody gets in trouble, F/M, Feeding Kink, Getting the recruit dirty, Hair-pulling, I didn’t think I was even into this kink, Impregnation, Light Crossdressing, M/M, Misuse of Dessert, Multi, Musketeers go above and beyond, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Porthos is so strong, Queen Anne gives everything for her country, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, SaaS (Semen as a Service), Servants Improbably Disappear, Sloppy Seconds, Stoned Sex, Super-Romantic Gang Bang, Swimming Without a Lifeguard, That’s not what a Rosary is for, There are Always Snacks, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Wet & Messy, and below as well, and fourths, and thirds, d’Artagnan is constantly licking everyone’s fingers clean, sloppy blowjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-17 05:19:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5855641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanadianGarrison/pseuds/CanadianGarrison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If asked, not that anyone would dare, Anne would say that she loved Louis. She was married so young she barely knew who she would be without him, and he was never cruel to her. Thoughtless, perhaps, or simply unconcerned, but not cruel. Still. It had been years, now, they had been married for years and she hadn’t yet produced an heir. Something had to happen, and soon. </p><p>Also known as "The Super-Romantic Gangbang Fic"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have been working on this for SIX MONTHS and I really hope you enjoy it. It's very exciting to have something long enough to post in chapters! I tried my best to make it as dirty as can be :) Updates will be posted weekly.
> 
> Thanks so much to my Smutty Ladies for your constant encouragement and for helping me take my ideas and make them even dirtier. Thanks also to The Jack for editing, I really appreciate your hard work!!

If asked, not that anyone would dare, Anne would say that she loved Louis. She was married so young she barely knew who she would be without him, and he was never cruel to her. Thoughtless, perhaps, or simply unconcerned, but not cruel. Still. It had been years, now, they had been married for years and she hadn’t yet produced an heir. Something had to happen, and soon.

 

* * *

 

“Her Majesty the Queen has decided to take the waters at Bourbon-les-eaux. It’s said to be ... helpful. Your orders are to accompany her and ensure that no harm should befall Her Majesty.”

Treville looked down the line at the four men, the best of the King’s Musketeers; Athos, Porthos, Aramis and d’Artagnan were standing at attention in his office, waiting for details and dismissal before accompanying their Queen on her journey. There would be servants as well, but Queen Anne preferred a small retinue when she travelled, and Treville wanted to be certain there would be no trouble.

“I know you’ve protected Her Majesty in the past, and I know she already trusts you. To that I will only add: remember your place, and do not be tempted to stray from it.” Treville looked at each of the four men in turn as he spoke, focusing on Aramis while he spoke of temptation, before dismissing them to make their own preparations.

 

* * *

 

Aramis loved nature, loved being out in the woods, far from the filth and smoke and smells of the city. Of course, this wouldn’t last — he had about three days until he’d be longing for Paris with all its people, its sights and sounds and busy streets — but until then he was determined to enjoy himself. Guarding the Queen was no hardship, either. There was something about her that Aramis felt drawn to — a woman taken from her home, her family, all that she knew, and sent away at such a young age. It reminded him in a way of his own childhood, growing up without loving parents or indeed anyone who might comfort and console him, expected only to be quiet and accept his fate… there would have been so many demands made of her. Aramis wondered what Anne thought about it all. Ever since he’d demonstrated how readily he would give his life to protect his Queen, throwing himself onto a grenade just a few weeks earlier, Aramis thought he could feel something special between them.

Sitting on a hill, his back against a tree, cleaning his pistol, Aramis really did feel like he was in paradise. Birds singing to attract their mates, bees moving from flower to flower… it put him in a certain kind of mood.

“Athos, are you done with d’Artagnan yet?”

“Not quite, Aramis. His leathers still look too new. We’ve made some progress, but we have a ways to go yet with this one.”

“Your problem is that you’re going about it all wrong. Send him over here for a few minutes, let me get him properly dirty.”

d’Artagnan’s pleading look was enough to overcome Athos’s brief thoughts of denial, and Athos resumed sparring with Porthos as d’Artagnan moved towards where Aramis was seated in the shade. Setting aside his weapon, Aramis smiled up at d’Artagnan, desire and happiness clear on his face. d’Artagnan grinned back, shaking his head a little as he knelt between Aramis’s splayed legs.

“You never get enough, do you,” d’Artagnan said fondly, sliding his hands up Aramis’s legs and beginning to unlace his trousers.

“I thought we’d established that ages ago,” Aramis replied. “That’s why I need my brothers to keep me satisfied. No one else has been able to keep up.” His cheerful tone contrasted with how hard his cock was as d’Artagnan pushed down his trousers and smallclothes. Aramis’s dick was already dark with arousal, and a bead of moisture shone at the tip.

d’Artagnan reached out with one hand, wrapping his strong fingers around the base of Aramis’s cock, the other hand gripping Aramis’s thigh tightly, as if to keep him in place. Leaning forward, he first licked Aramis’s cock clean, moaning at the taste. Then d’Artagnan sucked the head into his mouth, eyelashes fluttering as he swirled his tongue and played with the tip, licking up every drop.

Aramis let his head fall back against the tree behind him, sighing in pleasure and just enjoying the moment — a light breeze, the sounds of his brothers’ swords clashing as they sparred, and the exquisite feeling of d’Artagnan’s mouth on his cock. The boy was a natural, with skills far past what Aramis had any right to expect, but as soon as they’d introduced d’Artagnan to the many and varied things men could do together he’d been as fast and eager a student as he was in all other areas of his life.

Aramis looked back down, meeting d’Artagnan’s dark eyes. “Such a pretty mouth, stretched wide around my cock. Do you like it? Hm?” d’Artagnan tried his best to nod, then gave up and showed his appreciation by sucking harder, licking and rubbing with his tongue, bobbing his head up and down in Aramis’s lap as drool ran down his dick and over d’Artagnan’s fingers. He worked his head farther on every down-stroke, taking more and more of Aramis’s dick, focused and clearly loving every moment of this, doing his best to take every inch.

Aramis moved d’Artagnan’s sticky hand off his cock, then tangled his own fingers in d’Artagnan’s long, silky hair, gripping and pulling his head back a bit. Moving slowly, Aramis took control, holding d’Artagnan’s head still and thrusting back and forth with his hips.

“Focus on me, watch my eyes. All you need to do now is suck… and try not to choke too much.” Aramis nodded as he spoke, smiling wickedly, loving the look of pleading desire in d’Artagnan’s eyes. Then he started pulling d’Artagnan with each thrust, and tugging him back as he drew out, pushing deeper and deeper into d’Artagnan’s throat each time. D’Artagnan moaned and went limp, balancing his body with his hands but otherwise letting himself be held and used. He sucked when Aramis pulled out, then relaxed as Aramis thrust in as far as he could reach. Aramis loved this moment, loved being the focus of such beautiful surrender, and it didn’t take long before he was whispering rapidly and panting, tossing his head. He felt his balls draw tight, and used his grip on d’Artagnan’s hair to pull him all the way back just in time, back far enough that when Aramis spent it splashed onto d’Artagnan’s leathers and pauldron.

When Aramis released his hair, d’Artagnan sat back on his heels, panting. “Now I’m good and dirty. Are you satisfied?”

“It’s a start,” Aramis replied, “but —”

He was interrupted by the sound of one of Queen Anne’s handmaids approaching, holding her skirts as she picked her way in delicate shoes up the hill and towards Athos. D’Artagnan backed away as Aramis fixed his clothes, both remaining out of sight behind the tree.

“Her Majesty commands your attendance, monsieur. All four of you.”

“Is the Queen well?” Athos asked.

“Yes, sir. Please, come with me.”

“We need a moment to gather our things. Please tell Her Majesty that we will be with her as soon as possible.”

As soon as the handmaid had turned to leave, Aramis stood and moved towards d’Artagnan. Athos and Porthos closed in on d’Artagnan from each side, so he was suddenly surrounded. “You heard her,” Aramis said. “We have to get down there right away. There’s no time to properly clean your uniform.” With that, he reached out and started to slowly rub the drying spend into the leather of d’Artagnan’s uniform. As d’Artagnan reached up to stop Aramis, Athos and Porthos each grabbed one of his arms, holding him still.

“Jus’ let ‘im do it,” Porthos said softly. “Your leathers need some stains.” D’Artagnan slumped in their arms, giving up the fight as Aramis finished rubbing in the worst of the mess. He held his hand out for d’Artagnan to lick clean, and then neatened his moustache with those same damp fingers as they all turned to walk down the hill and find out what the Queen wanted.

 

* * *

 

Anne looked up at the four Musketeers standing in a row, wondering how long they would wait if she just said nothing at all. Where to even begin? This was such a big risk, but she was determined. Nobody would ever be able to say that Queen Anne did not give everything she had for her country. Not that anyone would ever speak of this, if all went well.

“You’re probably wondering why I summoned you here.”

There. That was a good start, it was a full sentence and made sense all the way through. Anne knew that although she was feeling nervous it did not come through in her voice, the years of remaining self-assured and calm while being stared at by an endless parade of courtiers having been a great education in that skill.

The men looked at each other, wordless communication clearly passing between them, and then all faced forward again as Aramis replied.

“Your Majesty, we are always at your disposal, but… we did notice what appeared to be a mass exodus of the staff?”

“A troupe of travelling players have set up in the village, and I’ve given my maids and the serving staff the afternoon off to go watch. The ride there takes more than an hour, and the show is a long one — I do not expect their return until tomorrow morning. Until then, the lake is ours, and you are my only protection.”

Seeing as how her Musketeer guards were the Queen’s only protection even with servants and ladies-in-waiting available, Anne knew her statement was a bit overly dramatic, but it suited her mood. And heavens knew that her goal in this situation was a bit highly-fraught.

“While we have this time, there is something I need to ask of you. It will seem a bit unusual, but I am more than certain that you will be up to the task, and will be able to achieve this goal while adhering to those values of loyalty and brotherhood that you hold so dear.”

Anne directed most of this towards Aramis, as she knew him best out of the four and felt the most comfortable with him, but she saw a brief smile cross d’Artagnan’s lips at the words “up to the task” and wondered if he was young enough still to find little amusements in even such innocent words.

“As you know — as everyone knows — I have not yet provided your King an heir to the throne. What you do not know is that this is not due to my own deficiency, but that of my husband. He lacks the drive, the desire to be with me, and my attempts to entice him have been unsuccessful.”

This time Anne was looking at Athos, who startled at her words, briefly meeting her eyes. He came from noble background, she knew, and would be the most keenly aware of the impropriety of the Queen bringing up this topic. As the silence drew on, Aramis appeared again to be the unspoken choice to voice their response.

“We could not help but notice that there is no heir to the throne, your Majesty. As for the rest...” Aramis then fell silent again, apparently waiting to see where she was going with this. Anne was almost surprised he hadn’t deduced it on his own, but then realized that even if any of them suspected what she was going to ask of them, they would never dare suggest it before she did.

“The situation cannot continue as it is, and so I have decided to take matters into my own hands, as it were. I need you four to help me, to give me the child that the King cannot.”

The silence drew out, somehow seeming more impressed than surprised or angry.

"Your Majesty," Aramis began, but he trailed off, apparently unsure how to continue.

"Aramis. I understand that what I am suggesting is unusual, even shocking, but I did hope that you would not be opposed?"

A slow smile spread over Aramis’s face as he looked up through his eyelashes at his Queen. “Not opposed at all, your highness. You know I will always strive to serve your every need.”

Anne’s breath caught at Aramis’s coy gaze and flirtatious words, and she smiled back at him, imagining (not for the first time) what it would feel like to be in his arms, kissing him, held tight. Her fears began to melt away under that warm look. Then she turned to where Porthos stood on d’Artagnan’s far side, his face calm but wary.

“If we are to do this, I ask that we all put aside our roles and our pasts, just for this time we share. Can you see me not as your Queen, but as a woman?”

Porthos smiled, reassuring her even more. “Like my brother Aramis, I live to serve. And I believe we have some experience in this area that will help.” Meeting his eyes, Anne considered what little she knew of Porthos. She’d heard whispers at Court — he came from the streets, the Court of Miracles, and was now undisputably among the finest of the Musketeers. She wondered what it would feel like to be held by him, what his kisses would taste like. Whether he felt as unsure as she did right now.

“D’Artagnan? You just earned your commission, and this is not within the usual realm of what Musketeers do…”

“Ah — you’d be surprised.” D’Artagnan dropped to one knee and gazed up at Anne with his brown eyes wide. “Anything you need, anything you want, it’s yours. And this — it’s certainly no hardship, Your Majesty. I want this. I want you.”

Anne smiled down at him, at his impetuous demonstration of fealty. She felt certain that these men would do their best to take care of her, and only hoped it didn’t hurt too badly.

“For now, we’ll start with this: call me Anne. And Athos, my wayward comte.” She turned to Athos, who had clearly been waiting.

“You’re sure?”

“I am.”

“Then it will be my pleasure, as well as yours, I hope. And if I may — I have a suggestion.”

Already? No wonder this one was the leader.

“By all means, continue.”

“We are alone, at a lake. Let’s go for a swim.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lake! 
> 
> I know this chapter is a bit short, but it was a natural break point, and the rest of the chapters are nice and long, just how we like it :) Enjoy!

Ten minutes later, Aramis was standing in the lake wearing only his braies, shivering. Porthos took a moment to laugh at how much Aramis resembled a drowned kitten, and then waded in after him, similarly half-dressed. Athos and d’Artagnan followed, each one holding a hand out to steady their Queen as she walked across the damp earth and up to the water’s edge. Anne looked regal even when barefoot in a simple shift, somehow. Maybe that's why she was the Queen.

As they waded deeper into the water, Anne glanced at d’Artagnan and then looked closer, leaning in against his arm.

“You have something in your hair.”

“I do?” d’Artagnan reached up and touched the hair just over his ear, wincing with a sudden realization. “Oh no, it’s just pomade. That I use. For my hair, I mean.”

“I’m not a child, d’Artagnan. I know what spend looks like when I see it.” Anne laughed a little, and her brow furrowed. “But — how did you manage to get your spend in your _hair_?”

“I didn’t!” d’Artagnan protested, turning to Athos for help. Athos stared back blankly for a moment, but his face softened as he turned to Anne.

“Indeed. I’m not sure d’Artagnan could shoot that far.”

“Hey!” ‘Course I could!” d’Artagnan’s arm drew back, and before Porthos realized what he meant to do he had brought it crashing around through the surface of the water, splashing Athos thoroughly and catching the Queen in most of the wave. They both spluttered and shook themselves, and then Anne laughed as d’Artagnan babbled apologies.

“I’m so sorry, I always do this, lose my temper and act without thinking, are you all right? I didn’t mean to splash you, it was supposed to be Athos, and besides, it’s not my spend anyways, and —”

D’Artagnan’s speech cut off as he was abruptly dragged underwater, eyes going wide as his arms flailed and he disappeared beneath the surface of the lake. Moments later, Athos emerged near where d’Artagnan had been standing, shaking wet hair from his eyes as droplets of water rolled down his bare chest.

“The lad needed a good dunking.” Porthos had closed the distance between himself and his Queen while she was watching Athos and d’Artagnan, so when she turned towards the sound of his voice she was startled to find him so near. Then she smiled and stepped the last little bit into his arms, looking up at him with wide eyes, curious and more than a little mischievous.

“Porthos. Tell the truth, now. Whose spend was it?”  
  
Porthos laughed, relieved that Anne was not upset at being splashed or shocked at their behavior, and he closed his arms around Anne’s waist, pulling her tight against himself with her arms trapped between them, letting her feel his warm chest, his bare skin.

“Are you sure you want to know?”  
  
“Of course.”

“It was Aramis’s.”

“Aramis’s spend. In d’Artagnan’s hair.” Anne’s voice was steady as she gazed up into Porthos’s eyes, her face now betraying a bit of concern alongside the amusement, but no disgust or anger. “Well. I hope there’s enough left for me?”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. Aramis has never had trouble going a few times in a night, and he especially won’t with you. He’s been wishing for something like this for ages now… And I feel the same way. This is a great gift you're giving us.”

“Truly?”  
  
“Course! How could we not want you? You’re kind, and generous, and so very beautiful. It’s our duty to serve you, yes, but it’s also our pleasure.” Porthos took Anne’s face in his hands, stroking gently across her cheeks with his thumbs as he leaned in slowly. Seeing her smile, he brought their lips together in a kiss, chaste at first but slowly opening up into something full of heat and promises. Anne pressed her body against Porthos and moaned at the swipe of his tongue across her lips, reaching up to grasp his shoulders in her small hands, following briefly as he pulled back from the kiss.

“Everything we do will be for you.” Porthos said softly. “You deserve to enjoy this, it shouldn't be painful or even… even a _chore_ for you. Let us make it good. Because we really, really want to.”

Anne's face showed a combination of desire and nerves, but her voice remained steady. “I trust you.” At that, Porthos couldn’t help leaning in again, kissing Anne deeply, more urgently, though his hands remained gentle on her face. Perhaps she would relax when she saw that he could keep her safe, and would not hurt her with the full force of his desire.

Aramis and Athos came closer, standing on each side of Anne and pressing close, letting her feel their bare chests against her back and arms. Aramis was still shivering, he was always affected by cold worse than the others, but he didn't seem to even notice it. Seeing that she was held securely against his brothers, Porthos knelt down in front of Anne, water rising to cover his bare chest nearly to his shoulders. Slowly, he slid her sodden skirt up her legs, revealing creamy flesh inch by inch. As his hands neared her waist, Athos and Aramis took hold of the wet fabric, freeing Porthos’s hands to caress Anne’s hips, and he slid his strong fingers over her skin. He shuffled closer on his knees, and Anne gasped and turned her face towards Aramis as Porthos began to press kisses to the slight soft roundness of her belly and down the front of each thigh.

“Aramis,” Anne sounded breathless already. “It’s too much to have you all looking at me.”

“With such beauty before us, how could we look away?” Aramis replied, the last words spoken against Anne’s mouth as Aramis kissed her. He drew back and then surged forward, their lips meeting passionately, all his longing poured into her mouth. Their kiss drew out as Porthos watched, Aramis and Anne each letting out little sighs and moans, drawing back to smile and then darting in again to kiss or nip and lick the other.

Turning his attention back to her thighs, Porthos resumed stroking Anne, trying not to distract her too much from Aramis. Her legs were spread just enough that Porthos could kiss little paths along the softest and most hidden skin high up on her thighs, and he continued until Anne began tentatively rocking her hips forward, silently urging him on.

As Athos kissed down Anne's throat to her collarbone and Aramis continued kissing her mouth, d’Artagnan came close behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling Anne flush against himself, leaning her back a little so Porthos could reach more easily. With her weight entirely held by his brothers, Porthos finally licked his way up and in between her legs, using his tongue as softly as possible to begin opening up his Queen.

The cool water of the lake lapped at his chest, and Porthos revelled in the feel and taste of Anne's cunny, so hot against his lips. Not wanting to overwhelm her, he started slowly, sliding and curling his tongue around her delicate folds without putting too much pressure on any one place. Anne's moans and gasps betrayed her pleasure, and she lost her footing on the sandy floor of the lake, the men catching her and holding her upright. With a growl Porthos lifted her legs, laying them over his shoulders and guiding Anne to cross her feet together behind his head as she clutched at d’Artagnan’s strong arms holding her.

“That's right, show him what you want,” Athos urged Anne. “Porthos can take it.” As Anne began to thrust her hips with growing confidence, Porthos licked harder, using the tip of his tongue to trace hot paths around her clit, finding every spot that made Anne shake and moan. When she pulled back a little bit Porthos left her little nub alone and returned to her outer lips, laving the flat of his tongue up and down. Her taste was exquisite, fresh and clean and sweet, drawing Porthos in and beckoning him to her opening, where he knew she would taste stronger, more wild. He held back still, though, suckling first at one side and then the other, his head rocking back and forth in response to Anne’s movements, making sure every lick and suck was welcome without being too much sensation and crossing over to painful. As Anne's thrusts became more and more insistent, Porthos returned to her button, tilting his head just right so he could purse his lips and suck in rhythmic pulses. Flicking his tongue against the bit of flesh in his mouth, Porthos firmed his grip on Anne’s arse and helped her thrust up against his face.

“You look so beautiful, so right, with Porthos on his knees for you.” This time it was Aramis who spoke softly in his Queen’s ear. “I want to take you now, myself, with my mouth, my hands, my cock. Would you like that?” Anne could only nod her head and moan for him. “I will, my Queen, I'll have you in every way, serve you every way you want, but Porthos has been so good to you, and I know how his mouth feels, so soft but still hot, wet and rough and perfect. Do you want to come for him, to show him how much you enjoy him?”

Anne’s hands reached out to Porthos’s head, tangling in his thick curls, although instead of directing his motions she just held tight and continued to let Porthos do his best to please her.

“Porthos please, please more, or —” she paused for a moment, gasping and jerking against his face. “Or harder, or something, anything, please!”

Porthos left her button with one last pulsing suck and then slowly licked down to her hole, tonguing around and around, tasting Anne’s arousal and loving how soft and hungry her cunt felt under his mouth. Anne pulled his hair tighter every time he dipped in even the tiniest bit, and so he focused on that sensation, slowly fucking her with his thick tongue. She held his hair tightly, shuddering as he pushed in and moaning as he pulled out, and Porthos couldn't resist curling his tongue up and sucking down every drop of her juices that he could taste. As his thrusts grew harder and less careful, Anne’s hips moved steadily against d’Artagnan’s grip; she shoved herself against Porthos’s face over and over again, pulling him back by the hair until his lips closed around her button once more. He let his chin jut out just right so that she could grind against his beard, and that roughness against her delicate opening pushed her over the edge. With a deeper moan and a final snap of her hips Anne came, quivering and gasping and shaking in all their arms. Porthos gently licked and sucked her through the aftershocks and then pulled back with a smile.

Standing, Porthos reached his arms around the others, drawing everyone in for a hug. Aramis gazed up at him for a moment with such intense love that Porthos's momentary concerns about any jealousy were immediately washed away, and then Aramis leaned in for a kiss. It was a different kiss than their usual — not as deep, and with more licking; Porthos thrilled at the knowledge that Aramis was tasting their Queen on his mouth, seeking out every drop of her essence from Porthos's lips and beard, moaning out his desire at the flavours. Aramis sucked at Porthos’s beard for a moment and then drew back, licking his own lips with a satisfied expression.

“Can we go inside now?” d’Artagnan’s voice brought Porthos out of the sensual moment he was sharing with Aramis. “I'm getting cold.”


	3. Chapter 3

The Queen's tent pavilion was a tent, in that it was a wooden frame with a fabric overlay, but that was as far as Athos could take the comparison, especially considering the humble condition of the shelters that Musketeers used when in the field. This tent comprised several rooms, all plush fabrics and soft pillows; just one of the many rugs covering the grass would have cost more than Athos’s entire year's pay. 

They were in the largest room now, Anne’s bedchamber, all still a bit damp from the lake but thankfully no longer prone to bouts of shivering (mostly on Aramis’s part, but Athos didn't like to see Aramis suffer unless he or Porthos was the cause.) Aramis, Porthos, and d’Artagnan had shed their wet underclothes and were lounging around naked, d’Artagnan seeming a bit unsure about what to do with his hands and how to hide his impressive erection, while Porthos and Aramis appeared to be entirely comfortable with their exposed states. Anne had removed her soaking-wet dress and donned a light robe which she left tantalizingly open down the front, while Athos himself, seated in a chair facing the bed, had remained in his wet smallclothes. His brothers knew him well enough to know it was because he liked to watch without being distracted by his own pleasure, but Anne had furrowed her brow in an unspoken question. Athos’s smile and promise of “later” set her at ease. 

“Anne; brothers.” Aramis sounded oddly hesitant, not a usual occurrence for him, though this was far from a normal circumstance. “I think we've made great strides so far today, but I'm still feeling some hesitance and fear, on all our parts.” He smiled reassuringly at Anne where she sat beside him on the bed, and then continued. “Athos’s earlier suggestion, swimming, was a great success. I now have something to offer as well.” With that, Aramis produced a small leather pouch from where his clothes lay discarded on the ground, and Porthos burst into laughter. 

“Aramis, you brought that? You really are always prepared!”

“What is it?” Anne asked, watching as Aramis opened the pouch and laid the contents out on the bed. 

Aramis held up a brown lump, as big around as a coin. “This, my dear, is  _ hashish _ , brought to us by a friend of a friend who knows someone sailing with the Dutch East India Company.” 

“And … What is it? Do you eat it?”

“You could, but we will burn it and inhale the smoke. It has a variety of effects — calm and euphoria, heightened physical pleasure, things seeming more funny than usual, that type of thing. If you don't want to try it that's quite all right, but I think you'll enjoy it if you let yourself.”

“I tried it for the first time recently, myself,” d’Artagnan spoke up. “It's a lot of fun, really.”

“And if you don't like how it feels, you can just lie down until it passes,” Porthos reassured Anne, with a kind smile. “We'll take good care of you, as always.” 

Anne looked over to Athos, perhaps noticing that he had not spoken since Aramis's offer. “Will you partake?” she asked.

“Not now,” Athos answered with a wry smile. “I enjoy it in certain circumstances, but we've found that it seems to increase my natural paranoia to levels that are simply unsustainable. Please don't let that stop you, though.” Hopefully his reluctance would not hold her back; Athos suspected that Anne would truly enjoy what Aramis was offering. He himself was content to be the one who would remain alert to intruders or other threats, though none were expected in this calm lakeside retreat. 

Anne considered for a moment, then nodded, “Very well, Aramis, let's give this  _ hashish _ of yours a try. What do I do?”

As soon as Anne agreed, Aramis started preparing his supplies, putting a small quantity of the  _ hashish _ into a bone-white, long-stemmed pipe and bringing a candle near to his spot on the bed.

“Porthos, d’Artagnan, come closer,” Aramis urged. Porthos and d’Artagnan were sitting on the floor between Athos and the bed, and Porthos drew d’Artagnan closer to the bed with him, curling an arm around his shoulders.

“Now, Anne,” Aramis continued, “there are a few ways we can do this, but considering that today is entirely dedicated to your pleasure, I propose my favourite method. Allow my brothers to demonstrate.” With that, Aramis handed the pipe to Porthos. Porthos lifted the pipe to his lips, and then Aramis tilted the candle so that its flame could be sucked into the pipe’s bowl when Porthos drew air through it. As the  _ hashish _ burned, Porthos was able to inhale its acrid smoke. Porthos then turned to d’Artagnan, and instead of letting out his lungful of smoke into the room, Porthos sealed his lips over d’Artagnan’s. Fisting his hand in d’Artagnan’s hair, Porthos slowly exhaled the smoke into d’Artagnan’s mouth, caressing his naked thigh with his other hand. d’Artagnan breathed in and arched towards Porthos’s touch, then moaned, pulling back with a little cough. Porthos dropped his hand from d’Artagnan’s hair and leaned forward again, kissing his brother once more with a quick smile before turning back to face the others. 

“And there you have it.” Aramis returned his attention to Anne. “Care to give it a try?”

Anne pounced, crossing the bed and landing in Aramis’s lap, her thin, damp robe barely a barrier between their bodies. “I do — with you.”

Aramis laughed and wrapped his arms around Anne's waist, holding her tight and kissing her deeply. “It will be my very great pleasure. Porthos, hand me the pipe!” 

As Athos watched, the others all continued to share the  _ hashish _ between them, swapping kisses back and forth until the pipe had been refilled several times and everyone had kissed everyone else. They even came over to kiss him a few times, as well. 

“There,” Aramis said eventually, putting the pipe and related supplies away on a side table. “Now give it a few minutes and see how you feel.”

“I already feel a bit strange, Aramis. Like… Like I'm floating, inside myself.” 

“Do you like it?” Athos asked, and Anne turned to look at him, her face flushed and eyes wide. She caught sight of Porthos and d’Artagnan, still kissing on the floor between Athos and the bed, half forgetting about their audience and half enjoying being watched by Anne as well as by their brothers. Athos loved seeing the two of them together, Porthos’s size making the tall and lanky d’Artagnan seem small, if never delicate. 

Pulling Anne against his body, Aramis lay down on the bed and drew her down with him, turning her face back towards him. He gazed down into her eyes, then kissed her. They were positioned at just the right angle for Athos to see exactly how Aramis licked down into Anne's mouth, how the hand he wasn't leaning on skimmed down Anne's side to rub her hip through the robe. 

“I think I do like it, yes.” Anne arched up to kiss Aramis, to give more and harder and deeper. She shifted and stretched on the bed, her robe falling open on either side of her body, and Aramis took the opportunity to run his hand up Anne's bare skin, curving his fingers around the swell of her breast, capturing her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Anne moaned as Aramis held the pinch to her nipple, her hand coming up to cover his. 

“Aramis, yes, that feels so good!” 

Aramis squeezed Anne's breast harder, dipping his head to suck her other nipple into his mouth, his hair falling across his face, obscuring his blissful expression. Groaning around his mouthful, Aramis looked up through his hair, his eyes meeting Athos's intense stare. While they gazed at each other, Aramis slowly moved his fingers lower and lower down Anne's body, until Athos could no longer see Aramis's hand, now hidden between her legs. Anne began to writhe in earnest now, tossing her head and letting her legs spread even farther apart. 

“Tell us, Anne,” Athos urged, voice low and rough with desire, his arousal hidden by his smallclothes but no less insistent for being covered. “Tell us how you feel, how he touches you.”

“Oh — it's like I'm on a ship, or — or in a cloud? And my skin, it feels so sensitive, so — I don't know how to describe it!” Anne moaned again, her hips rising to meet Aramis's busy hand. “His fingers feel so good!”

“Is he inside you now?”

“Yes, Athos, yes! Inside, and I've never felt — not like this —”

Anne broke off and lunged up to kiss Aramis again, rolling her hips up and forward to meet his every thrust. Her hands flailed, one bunching in the sheets above her head, the other somehow managing to smack Porthos in the face more skillfully than Athos thought Anne would have been able to manage had it been intentional. Porthos took her hand in his and brought Anne’s fingers to his mouth, sucking three in and rumbling with pleasure. 

“Anne,” Aramis said, as he continued to finger her, “you're so soft and plush and wet for me. Do you think you're ready for more?”

“Aramis, my Aramis; I've waited so long. Yes, yes I want it, I want you. And oh, Porthos, I never knew my fingers could feel so hot, so … mmm, like I have little cocks of my own!” Anne began to laugh, all the tension finally leaving her body, and she seemed to have found the calm joy that they'd hoped to bring to her. 

With that, Aramis removed his fingers from Anne’s cunt, glistening with her juices in the candlelight. 

“Wait!” D’Artagnan’s protest was a surprise, given his usual enthusiasm. “Wait, let me just —” He took Aramis's hand in his and began to lick it clean, little hums and mutters escaping his lips as he sucked each finger in turn. “There. Now we can continue.”

Aramis knelt up on the bed, between Anne’s legs, bringing her left knee out to the side. He cupped his dick with one hand and seemed ready to enter her, but with a shake of his head Aramis backed away. “I simply cannot pass up this chance,” he said, and bent forward to bring his face down to her body, kissing and nuzzling a path towards her cunt. “I've wanted you since we met — and now, I must have a taste.” Although Athos could not see every detail of how Aramis licked and sucked and slurped at his Queen, Athos knew exactly how skilled Aramis was with his mouth, and how terrifyingly dedicated he could be. Within moments all of Anne's calm was washed away under wave after wave of pleasure, and her moans mingled with Aramis’s thrilled sounds. Athos palmed his cock through his clothes. He was nearly ready to undress but held himself back, still wanting to focus on the sound and sight of Anne losing herself to the full force of her desire. 

Eventually Aramis pulled away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Anne reached out for him, taking her fingers back from Porthos’s attentions and grasping Aramis's shoulders with both hands. “Please, Aramis, I'm ready, give me what I need.”

This time when Aramis positioned himself to enter his Queen he did not hesitate or hold back. With a quick glance to make sure his brothers were all watching, Aramis cupped Anne's thigh with one hand and his hard cock with the other, lining up and thrusting into her dripping-wet cunt in one smooth motion. A moan burst from his lips as his eyes closed in ecstasy — Athos knew that meant Aramis was close to losing control, and trying hard to hold himself back. Anne also seemed nearly overwhelmed for a moment, her head tilted back and eyes shut, but then she smiled and looked up at Aramis. 

“Oh yes, yes, it feels so good!” Anne said, somehow suddenly the most composed person in the room. “I need your spend, Aramis.”

Her words goaded Aramis back into motion, and his hips snapped forward with one rolling thrust after another, smooth and deep. A fresh sheen of sweat broke out across his body and he captured Anne's lips in a kiss, gentle enough to not leave a mark but passionate enough to show everything he felt for her. 

“You want it?” he asked, though Athos knew he wasn't looking for a real answer. “You want me to fill you up, give you a baby?” Aramis may have been struggling to contain himself a moment earlier, but now the suave and experienced lover was back. 

“Yes! Oh yes,” Anne cried out, winding the leg Aramis wasn't holding up around his waist to pull him in tighter with every thrust. “Yes, Aramis, please, give me your child!”

Athos gasped; somehow, hearing Anne ask for it was even more arousing than when Aramis had offered. The sound drew Anne's attention to him, and a mischievous look appeared on her face. 

“Athos. Are you enjoying this? You still like to watch?”

“I am, Anne. I think I have never seen anything so beautiful before this moment.” Watching his brothers together came close, but there was something about knowing that they were serving their Queen so intimately that brought this to another level in Athos's mind. 

“Well I want to see more too, Athos. Take your smallclothes off for me, I want to — oh Aramis, keep going — I want to see all of you.” Anne’s voice carried a tone of effortless command, and Athos stood up, immediately working on the ties at his waist. 

“Of course, anything you want. But… would you do something for me in return?”

“Why Athos! Perhaps… Mmm. What do you have in mind?” Her words were teasing, but Anne's face showed her interest and desire, and her body never stopped rocking up to meet Aramis's. 

“Aramis has certain … preferences, shall we say. Ways he likes to be touched. Try pulling his hair; see what happens.”

“Oh Athos — always looking out for your brothers!” Porthos said, still on the floor with d’Artagnan. They had not moved apart since they were sharing the  _ hashish,  _ and they alternated between kissing and watching their companions, slowly stroking each other. 

“You know I strive to always be the best leader I can be, Porthos,” Athos replied, voice dry but affectionate. 

Anne laughed and looked back at Aramis, who had started licking and mouthing at her throat. Their eyes met and Aramis nodded. Anne reached one hand up to his hair, twining her fingers into the wild brown curls, and then twisted her hand, pulling tight. As Athos expected, Aramis cried out and lost his rhythm, holding still deep within Anne's cunt as the sensation he loved so dearly brought him closer to the edge. 

“Yes, Anne! Yes! Pull my hair, give me that pain, it's so good!” 

Anne released her grip for a moment and then pulled again, tugging Aramis's head to one side with the force of it and biting his exposed neck. Aramis's thrusts resumed, working his cock deep within her as Anne goaded him on with her newfound power.

While Aramis rocked back and forth his rosary fell down across Anne's face, and she tilted up to capture the beads between her lips. A wince of arousal crossed his face and then Aramis kissed her, the rosary trapped within the kiss. His tongue took up the rhythm of his hips, thrusting into her mouth again and again, and then hooked the beads out from her lips and back within his own. Aramis leaned up and sucked on the rosary, panting, his lips red and a bit swollen, but not faltering in his movements within Anne. 

“Now Athos, I've done my part,” Anne said. “It’s — mm — it's your turn again. Show me how you touch yourself.”

“Oh, she is  _ good, _ ” came d'Artagnan’s voice from his place on the floor, practically in Porthos's lap. “It took me ages to get Athos to stroke off for me!”

“Well, I would certainly never keep our Queen waiting,” Athos replied, releasing his thick cock from the confines of his clothes, already so hard and slick from the time he had spent watching. He stroked up the length of it, making sure that Anne could see every motion, running his thumb over the tip. A drop of slick beaded up immediately, and Athos moaned as he used the wetness to ease the way, speeding up as the intensity increased. 

“That's right,” Anne said, “show me how much you want me.”

“Oh, he wants you, I'm sure.” Aramis said. “But for now, I'm the one who has you.” With that, Aramis wrapped both Anne's legs around his waist and braced his arms on either side of her head, changing his angle slightly as he worked his long, hard cock into her welcoming cunt. 

“Yes! Oh, Aramis, I'm ready, I need it, give me your spend, deep inside me!” Anne twisted her fingers in Aramis's hair, pulling in time with his thrusts, and used her other hand to rake her nails down his back, drawing a hiss and then a groan of pleasure from Aramis. 

Athos couldn't stop stroking his dick, determined not to let himself spend but so caught up by their the frantic cries that it was a near thing. Anne scratched Aramis again and the unexpected pain pushed him over the edge. Aramis lunged down to take Anne's mouth in a passionate kiss as his hips stilled, holding himself deep within her as he shuddered through his climax. 

Athos slowly stopped stroking himself, not releasing his grasp on his still-hard cock but wanting to pull back from the precipice he had suddenly found himself on. The only sounds in the room now were kisses — Aramis and Anne, Porthos and d'Artagnan. Who would the Queen want to take next? Was she even ready to continue? After so many years of only neglectful attentions, if that much, would she be in pain now? And if so, when would that pass?

As if he could hear Athos's line of thought, Aramis pulled back from Anne, kissing her softly a few more times to ease the separation. 

“Anne.” He kissed her again, on the mouth and then the tip of her nose. “You are … magnificent. That's the only word for it. I can't remember the last time I was so caught up in the moment that I spent before the lady I was with did.” One more kiss for her growing smile. “ But to have that pain I so dearly adore, and to have it from  _ you _ …” He sighed contentedly. “Then there was no choice. ”

“Well.” Anne's tone was arch, but the tease underneath was strong and clear. “If your Queen is not exceptional in every way, then something must be amiss.”

“Oh, ‘course, ‘course,” Porthos said, nodding and stroking his beard with an expression of comical judiciousness on his face. “Our Queen must be a leader, in all ways.” 

“Indeed,” Athos agreed. “A taste maker, one might say.”

“One might, but for what tastes?” D’Artagnan snickered, and then stretched. “All right. Now what?”

“Do we have any snacks?” 

“Porthos. I am Anne of Austria, daughter of the King of Spain, wife to the King of France,  Her Most Christian Majesty the Queen of France and Navarre. There are always snacks.”


	4. Chapter 4

When Anne said there were always snacks, she wasn't lying.

After a few more minutes of cuddling and kissing they had left the bed, Aramis pulling away from Anne reluctantly.

“I have not been there myself, but I'm told this pavilion has a full kitchen,” Anne explained. “Let's see if we can find it.”

Porthos and d’Artagnan were halfway out the door when Aramis spoke up. “You may be satisfied to go as God made you, but I for one am cold. Does anyone have any dry clothes for me?”

“Why not just wear your trousers and shirt?” Athos asked, as he dressed in the same manner he was suggesting. “It's not as comfortable without your smallclothes, but they are still too damp from the lake.”

“Athos, you know I have delicate skin. I simply cannot abide the chafing that would result!” Aramis sounded affronted at the very suggestion.

“All right,” Anne said. “You can wear my robe. It is warm and dry, and the blue will suit you well.” Besides, Anne wanted to see him wearing her clothes — there was something so transgressive about a man who usually wore leather and armor instead being covered with soft silk.

Aramis opened his mouth as if to protest, then paused. “I would be honored.” He lifted the garment from where Anne had left it on the bed, bringing it to his nose and inhaling. “I hope to remember this scent until my dying day.” Then, with a flourish, he pulled the robe on and fastened it at the waist. Somehow the delicate lace and feminine cut of the robe seemed to accentuate his masculinity — though maybe that was due to how his still-half-hard cock poked out just below where the sash held the robe closed.

Aramis walked over to where the _hashish_ pipe was still sitting on a side table and took one more long puff. “Good,” he said. “Now we can go eat.”  

* * *

The kitchen area was as well-appointed as the rest of the pavilion. There were baskets and boxes and shelves laden with exotic fruits, cakes and cookies, meats and vegetables ready for the evening meal. Athos sat on a wide bench at the long work table in the center of the room, trying to ignore how cold his wet clothes were, while Porthos knelt behind him, building up the fire and d'Artagnan rummaged around, laying out whatever he thought looked tasty. Aramis brought a cushion from the bedroom and placed it on the bench next to Athos, for Anne's comfort, and then set about finding cups and pouring wine for everyone. Eventually they were seated around the table, Porthos and d'Artagnan across from Anne and Athos, with Aramis flitting about in Anne's silk robe like a half-naked baby-blue butterfly, moving from Porthos’s lap to the spot beside Athos, then sitting on the table, then to the sideboard to get more food, then back again. Everyone was companionably sharing bites from the same few plates in the middle of the table, taking every chance to brush fingers and even feed each other.

“These berries are delicious!” Aramis exclaimed. “Porthos, did you try them?”

Porthos didn't answer, having just bitten a large piece out of a cold turkey leg.

“Athos, have a cookie,” d’Artagnan offered. “They remind me of my mother's baking, I haven't had _oubli_ _é_ _s_ this good since I was a boy!”

“You're still a boy,” Porthos mumbled around his mouthful.

“Don't forget the _hashish_ ,” Athos said. “Have you ever eaten while still feeling its effects?”

D'Artagnan shook his head, though Aramis and Porthos were both so engrossed in their snacks that they ignored the question entirely.

“Is that why it tastes so good? And feels so good in my mouth?”

“That’s definitely part of it, though —” Athos stole the half-eaten cookie from d'Artagnan’s hand and took a bite. “These are actually quite good indeed. Mind that you don't get carried away and eat too much — we still have a mission to fulfill, after all.”

“Is that all I am to you, Athos, just a mission?” Anne's tone was amused but underneath it Athos could feel her original fear and hesitation returning, and he mentally kicked himself for phrasing it in that way.

“There's nothing ‘just’ about a mission to men like us, Anne. We have no family besides ourselves, no life besides this one. The mission is everything to us — and you make this mission a joy to fulfill.”

“Then you're forgiven,” Anne replied, “and I have a special treat for you to show that I believe you. Porthos, are you finished with your meat? I believe you'll want to give this your full attention.”

As the men cleared the table, Anne went over to the cupboards and opened a few, stopping at one that d'Artagnan had looked in but then ignored. It seemed to contain blocks of ice, which was notable in itself, but not the kind of thing they were looking for. Gesturing for Athos to join her, Anne directed him to move the blocks until a covered white ceramic bowl was revealed. Athos brought the bowl to the table, Anne following with a handful of spoons and returning to her cushion.

“This is a new delicacy called ‘ice cream’. It's kept frozen, and is absolutely delicious.”

“Is it just what it sounds like? Frozen cream?” Aramis looked like he wasn't sure it would be as good as Anne seemed to think, but as usual he was willing to try whatever she suggested.

“Try it and see,” Anne said, reaching for a spoon. She scooped up some ice cream and turned to Porthos. “Now I get to give _you_ something new and exciting!”

Porthos leaned forward across the table, taking Anne's hand in his, slowly bringing the spoon towards himself. With a wicked smile he opened his mouth and ate the proffered ice cream. His eyes widened, and the smile turned wide and sunny. “Present company excluded, this is the best thing I have ever eaten. Ever. Pass me a spoon!” Anne laughed and handed it over.

Athos smiled and put his arm around Anne, pulling her soft, warm body tight against his. Taking up a spoon, he fed some ice cream to Anne, then took a bite for himself. The cool sweetness coated his tongue and slid down his throat, a decadent sensation that was a little reminiscent of swallowing his lover’s spend. “This is divine,” Athos said. He kissed Anne and then took another bite as Porthos and d'Artagnan began eating.

“Yes — it's become quite a favourite,” Anne replied. Aramis sat on Athos's other side and gazed beseechingly at him until Athos finally relented, feeding him a spoonful of ice cream and following it up with a kiss as well. Aramis moaned in delight, his eyes falling half-shut as he savoured the new taste and texture.

“Porthos, you have to try this!” D'Artagnan interrupted Aramis's moment of ecstasy, holding out a spoonful of ice cream with a chunk of cookie on top. “I didn't think it could get better, but it did!”

For a few minutes they ate and kissed and just enjoyed the freedom to relax together, their obligations and social positions forgotten. Then the spoon that Athos was holding for Anne dripped just as she leaned forward to bite, a drop of creamy white falling on her nearly-as-creamy breast. Athos leaned in to lick it off, groaning as the taste and feel of Anne under his mouth reignited the arousal that had been banked while they ate. When he sat up again all eyes were on Athos and the room was too quiet.

“No? Did I… cross a line?” It had seemed within the realm of what would be acceptable but the sudden silence around the table made Athos a bit unsure. Then the tension broke as Porthos growled under his breath and d'Artagnan shook his head, muttering something about Athos having become a hedonist. Aramis took it a step further, as always. He purposefully dripped some ice cream onto Athos’s chest, letting it slide down over his nipple before leaning in to slowly lick him clean, gazing across his body at Anne while his tongue traced a path up to Athos's throat, ending with a bite. Anne stared back at Aramis, face unreadable until she mirrored his actions, first dribbling ice cream on Athos and then licking it up slowly, her tongue hot against the chilled skin.

“You truly are fit to be our Queen,” Aramis said, lust and awe clear in his voice.

“I am. And since I seem to have changed Porthos's life forever by introducing him to ice cream, I think it's time he repaid me for that favour.” Anne stood and walked around the table, pushing Porthos's shoulders until he leaned back and she could straddle his lap. She didn't take his cock within herself immediately, instead crowding up close and trapping his hardness against her body. As her hips rocked she moaned and leaned back a bit, so Porthos was treated to the full view of her breasts and stomach, though Athos and Aramis could only see her back.

Anne stretched a hand out, and Aramis placed in it a spoon filled with ice cream, already melting. Anne brought it back to herself and let the ice cream drip down her chest, then gasped as both Porthos and d'Artagnan leaned in to lick her clean, each focusing lips and tongue on a breast. The spoon was refilled and Anne dripped it on herself again, thrusting against Porthos’s cock as he and d'Artagnan sucked her pert nipples and made sure not a drop was missed. Then Anne rose up, grasping Porthos’s cock in one hand — gaining a wince and an apologetic “cold fingers” from Porthos — before she slowly sat back down, this time taking his thick, hard cock deep within herself.

“Now, Athos, bring that spoon back over here.” Anne resumed rocking against Porthos, and Athos stood, moving around to their side of the table and smiling at d'Artagnan as he sat on Porthos’s other side, straddling the bench so he could both see everyone and reach the ice cream bowl. Athos scooped some up but then paused, not sure if she wanted it dripped down her breasts again. His hesitance proved correct, as Anne said, “Feed Porthos for me?”

Porthos looked like he didn't know where to turn, every sense full of Anne or ice cream, nearly overwhelmed. Athos fed him spoon after spoon of ice cream, barely able to tear his eyes away from where Porthos’s body connected with Anne’s; his shaft showed full and sticky every time Anne rose up, and then disappeared when she pressed down again. Eventually his distraction led to a missed target and Athos smeared ice cream all in Porthos's beard, but d'Artagnan was quick to lean in and lick him clean.

“D'Artagnan, you seem a little at loose ends,” Anne said, “and there's something I've always wanted to see…”

“Just tell me,” d'Artagnan answered. “Anything you want is yours!” His voice was full of lust, and he was clearly eager to do whatever Anne suggested.

“Aramis, come sit here on the table, in front of d'Artagnan. And you,” Anne leaned forward and to the side, taking d’Artagnan's mouth in a soft, wet kiss, “you can show me exactly how you got that spend in your hair this morning.”

D'Artagnan flushed, but Aramis didn't hesitate, getting up where he was told and settling into place with Anne's robe draped around him, kissing first Porthos and then Anne on the way, his cock now fully hard again.  Just as d'Artagnan licked his lips and was about to begin, Athos said, “Wait.”

“Athos, come on, you heard her, what could possibly —” d'Artagnan's protests died away as Athos reached across Anne and Porthos, letting a giant glob of half-melted ice cream fall right on the head of Aramis's dripping cock. Aramis gasped at the cold and Porthos chuckled.

“Oh, so funny, you didn't like a cold hand on yours!” But Aramis's indignant tone faded into a moan as d'Artagnan finally got his mouth around that gorgeous cock, slurping up cold ice cream and taking about half the length into his mouth.

“That's right,” Aramis said, “you suck me so well, you're the best recruit I've ever trained.” D'Artagnan moaned and bobbed his head, taking Aramis's dick deeper, his movements spreading the sticky ice cream all over Aramis’s balls. “Be careful now — we can't get our Queen’s robe dirty!” D'Artagnan shook his head, still slurping and sucking, showing Anne exactly how good he was at using his mouth. He pulled off and moved to Aramis's balls, licking them clean with long, slow laps of his tongue, sucking each one into his mouth and then letting it drag out between his teeth. He worked his tongue around the base of Aramis's cock, then licked up the shaft to wiggle his tongue against the dripping slit.

“Aramis, mm,” d'Artagnan was breathing hard, barely taking Aramis's dick out of his mouth enough to speak, slurring around him. “You taste amazing.”

“I taste like Anne,” Aramis answered fondly, threading his fingers into d'Artagnan’s hair. “Anne and ice cream, I can think of no better combination.” Aramis tightened his grip and pulled d'Artagnan back down onto his hard cock, shining with spit and a few small streaks of ice cream that d'Artagnan hadn't yet licked away.

“If only —” Porthos was panting too, no longer letting Anne do all the work. His hands grasped her plush thighs and pulled her back and forth on his lap. “If only they could make ice cream that tastes like you,” he said, kissing Anne to emphasize his point, “I would never stop eating it!” Anne returned the kiss, then resumed watching d'Artagnan’s show, clearly enjoying the sight of such gorgeous men doing her bidding in every way.

“Porthos. We all know you will only stop when there is none left.” Athos fed one more spoonful of ice cream to Porthos, then one to Anne, and then leaned back. “And I'm sorry to say, we have reached that state now.”

Porthos shook his head, focused on how Anne was riding his cock, his head falling back a bit and closing his eyes. “So good,” he grunted, “you feel — so tight and wet around me. Do you like it?”

“Yes, mm, yes I do!” Anne was flushed and sweating, still watching d'Artagnan. “Suck — no, lick his cock for me. Can you still taste me all over him?” D'Artagnan nodded while he obeyed, groaning as he ran his tongue over every inch of Aramis's thick, hard cock.

“That's right,” Athos encouraged him, “let us see how eager you are, what wicked tricks you've learned with that mouth of yours. Don't worry about getting a bit messy.”

Athos reached a hand in between Porthos and Anne, first cupping and squeezing her breast, then sliding it slowly down. When he reached the place where their bodies connected, he let his fingers slide all around, feeling the slick wetness coating Porthos's shaft. Curling his fingers up, he ran the backs of his knuckles against Anne's clit, making her moan and shake. Athos rubbed back and forth, letting Porthos's thrusts press his hand rhythmically against her, leaning in to lick and suck gently on Anne's collarbone. The new sensations brought Anne to the crest, and she went wild in their arms, fucking up against Athos's fingers over and over, crying out as she shuddered and came hard.

Porthos held Anne gently as the aftershocks rippled through her body, slowing his thrusts but not stopping entirely. When Anne had calmed down a bit he smiled, a question in his eyes.

“Yes, Porthos. It's your turn now, time to get me preg — ooh!”

Anne's moment of composure was lost as Porthos stood up, nearly knocking d'Artagnan off the bench beside him, holding Anne with one strong hand under her ass as her legs wrapped around behind his waist. Porthos swept his free arm across the table, sending spoons flying and the ceramic bowl to the ground where it shattered. Seeing what he meant to do, Athos grabbed the cushion from the bench where Anne had sat and laid it on the table, just before Porthos put her down.

Porthos's thrusts were smooth and hard now, pulling out nearly all the way before pushing his cock deep into Anne's body. The wet, slick sounds were accompanied by his grunts of pleasure and Anne's whispered endearments. Porthos's long, strong fingers grasped Anne's hips, keeping her in place so that his powerful thrusts didn't slide her across the table, holding so tight that she couldn't even rock her hips up against him.

Moving from his straddle of the bench, Athos stepped around Porthos to d'Artagnan and Aramis. Aramis pulled d'Artagnan back by the hair, gasping at the cold air, spit shining on his dick, no more traces of ice cream to be seen. When Athos held his sticky fingers out towards d'Artagnan, they were immediately sucked clean, a small sigh of satisfaction coming from d’Artagnan’s swollen lips.

Porthos was nearing his climax; Athos knew from the way his breathing changed and rhythm sped up. Anne was tossing her head and moaning for every thrust, Porthos blowing like a horse and eyes screwed shut in ecstasy. Athos pulled his damp fingers out of d'Artagnan's mouth and shoved them into Porthos's hair, yanking hard. That was all it took, and Porthos roared as he began to spend, fucking Anne through it with short, powerful strokes, not stopping until every drop was released deep within her. Even when he was done he didn't pull out, keeping Anne tight against himself, making sure none of his spend could spill out of her. After a few minutes he looked over to where his brothers were all sitting, calmly waiting for Anne and Porthos to be ready for whatever came next, ignoring their own arousal for the time being.

“So,” d'Artagnan spoke up, “what did you think, watching me suck Aramis? Did I do well enough?”

“I could see your enthusiasm, absolutely, and Aramis seems to have approved,” Anne replied, peering over Porthos's shoulder to look at Aramis sitting on the table, cock once again peeking out from within the folds of Anne's robe. “But I'm not sure it was a proper demonstration; this time there's no spend in your hair.”

Aramis laughed at d'Artagnan’s expression, equal parts chagrin and arousal. “Let's go back to your bedroom and we’ll see what we can do about that.”  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the very last chapter! Hope you enjoy.

When it was clear that Anne was ready to return to the bedroom, Porthos simply stood and walked there, carrying Anne, his big cock still seated deep within her, not letting a drop of spend drip out. Anne felt sensitized, perhaps a bit swollen, but certainly not like she needed to stop — she was a bit surprised at how durable her body seemed to be. This afternoon with her Musketeers was well outside the realm of what she had grown up believing was acceptable, but perhaps the lessons she was learning today about being strong and capable would help when navigating power dynamics at Court.

Porthos stopped, facing the bed, bringing one warm hand up to cup Anne's face, thumb stroking softly back and forth on her cheek.

“I don't want to put you down, but it's about time for you to move on, eh?”

Anne nodded her assent, a ripple of arousal moving through her at the idea that these powerful men were waiting for her convenience, for her to take what she needed from them. Porthos bent down and laid Anne out on her back, her legs unwinding from around his waist to hang off the side of the bed, pulling out slowly as he backed away. When Porthos moved aside, leaving Anne with her legs spread wide in a wanton display, she almost curled up in embarrassment, but the look on d'Artagnan’s face stopped her. He stood stock-still in the doorway, his eyes wide and his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and his cock was the biggest one Anne had ever seen. Somehow, even with everything they'd done so far, she hadn't looked directly at his aroused cock until this moment, and so the size of it, the heft and girth, hadn’t fully registered.

“D'Artagnan, my goodness. Where have you been hiding that all day?”

He gasped, not moving from his place a few feet away, eyes cutting to Athos and then back to Anne. Athos made an “after you” gesture and Anne realized that they were waiting for her, that they didn't know whom she would want to take next.

“You look like you're fit to burst. I won't make you wait any longer.” Spreading her legs just the tiniest bit more, Anne stroked her sticky opening with one hand while holding the other out to d'Artagnan. He was on her in a flash, arms on either side of her body, kissing her like it was the last kiss he would ever have, sliding that huge cock into her eager cunt in one long, smooth stroke.

D'Artagnan groaned and stilled for a moment, and Anne could tell he was trying to get some control over his body. She was so full, stretched wide by his massive dick, and it felt so, so good.

“That's right, that's just right,” she purred when he pulled back from the kiss. “Try to take your time, enjoy every moment. And don't spend until I say you can!”

D'Artagnan looked almost panicked as he began to fuck her in earnest, with steady hard strokes at a faster pace than Aramis or Porthos had used. "I'm — I'm sorry, I just, you feel so good, and I — I can't —" 

"It's all right, you can do it, I'm here, not going anywhere now. You've been so good to me, and now it's your turn."

D'Artagnan tangled his fingers in Anne's hair, kissing her again and rolling his hips into hers, then breaking the kiss to bury his face in her hair and breathe her deep. He was clearly loving every minute of it, closer to being overwhelmed than Aramis or Porthos had been; so glad and turned on and just dazed with how good he felt. Anne took everything d'Artagnan gave her and urged him on, wrapping her legs around his waist, licking his ear when his head turned just the right way. Spreading her legs wider with his own, d'Artagnan pounded his cock into her even deeper than before. He tossed his head, shaking his hair out of his eyes, and smiled down at her with a sudden, surprising focus. Before she knew what was happening d'Artagnan had rolled them sideways, bringing Anne up on top of him and sliding his arms under hers and around her back, holding her body tight up against his. He didn't stop fucking up into her, bracing his feet on the floor where they hung off the side of the bed, while Anne moved her knees up a bit to get comfortable in the new position. It was a bit strange — the first time she'd ever been on top for sex was with Porthos, and she still wasn't used to how different it felt — but she liked it. D'Artagnan’s cock was sliding deep and hitting all the right places inside her, and his hands were warm and strong on her waist, pulling her down every time he thrust up.

Anne felt the bed dip and she turned to see Aramis and Porthos joining them. They knelt on the bed, Porthos untying her blue robe and sliding it off Aramis, greedy hands roaming over Aramis's chest and arms as he was once again exposed for all to see. Then Porthos gently pushed Aramis over, lying him down on his side near d'Artagnan's head, snugging up behind him and throwing one leg possessively over Aramis’s to hold him in place.

As Anne watched, Porthos reached around and grasped Aramis's cock in his big hand, stroking slowly from base to tip and back again. Aramis moaned, slick beading up fast on the head of his dick and dripping onto d'Artagnan's cheek.

“Such a dirty boy,” Porthos said. “We're finally having an influence on him.”

While Porthos spoke, Aramis wiped the slick off and held his fingers to d'Artagnan's lips for him to lick clean, then grasped his cock and angled it so the head was in d'Artagnan's mouth.

“There you are, yes,” Aramis was a bit breathless, still rock-hard from everything they had done already,, and he started to push into d'Artagnan’s ready mouth as far as Porthos's grip on him would allow. Then he relaxed, just letting Porthos's strokes pull him back and forth, eyes fluttering shut for the feel of d’Artagnan’s mouth, hot and wet and sucking on the head of his cock.

Even after watching d'Artagnan suck Aramis's dick in the kitchen, this time Anne had the closest possible view, and seeing d'Artagnan have his mouth taken while he fucked her so deeply was amazing. She couldn't help but want to join in, maybe see what a kiss was like when it was happening around a dick, but in this position she was too short to reach. Instead she brought a hand up and worked one finger into d'Artagnan's mouth alongside Aramis's cock, prompting a hiss from Aramis and an impressed chuckle from Porthos. The sensation of d'Artagnan's tongue sliding across her finger, and the tightness of the suction, and the heat of Aramis's cock all wound her up more, and Anne's hips seemed to have a mind of their own — she was grinding down for every time d'Artagnan pushed up, trying to get as much of him in her as she could, and rub her clit against his body too, but she couldn't quite get enough pressure.

Then there was a hand under her, between her body and d'Artagnan's, in just the right place for her to press against. It felt so good, so intense, so right! Anne rocked, grinding and flexing the muscles in her cunt, moving on instinct to chase all the best feelings. And — and then there was something else, something hot, and wet, and — and licking, long laps and swirls of a tongue —

Anne whipped her head around, staring behind herself with every bit of shock and fear and desire showing themselves in her eyes. Athos was on his knees behind her, and he was — he was —

“Athos de la FERE!”

He looked up from where he had his face buried in her arse, raising one eyebrow. 

“I didn't say to stop!”

Athos ducked his head down again and resumed licking. The sensation was incredible, she had never felt so open and wet, and Anne let her body slump, resting her face against d'Artagnan's shoulder for a moment, smelling his sweat and arousal, traces of leather and steel, as she let Athos kiss her so intimately.

“That's our Athos,” Porthos purred. “Always diving right in, not afraid to get a bit dirty. And he's good at it — taught him myself, I did.”

Did that mean Athos had done this to Porthos before? Or — was it the other way around, did big, strong Porthos use his mouth even on his brothers, take care of them that way? What else did they do together, what more could they teach her? Athos’s tongue traced slow paths up and down, around her hole, and just as Anne finally felt like she was accustomed to the feeling, he firmed the tip of his tongue and pressed, pushing it in and —

“He’s doing that thing,” Porthos pretended to whisper to Aramis.

“What thing?” Aramis’s eyes moved back and forth, at first watching d’Artagnan blissfully suck his cock as he steadily fucked Anne, then looking further down Anne’s body to Athos kneeling behind her, then up to Anne’s face. “That thing with his tongue? Anne, is he — mmm yes — is he doing that —” Aramis broke off with a gasp as Porthos reached down to squeeze his balls.

“I believe he is,” Porthos said. “And I think Anne likes it as much as you do, she’s all flushed and gorgeous between our brothers.” Aramis thrust forward, deeper into d’Artagnan’s mouth, and Anne cried out as Athos kept licking her, eating her, taking her higher and higher. She felt hot and cold at the same time, so alive with the power flowing through her, moving from these four amazing men right into her. 

“Yes — they are so gorgeous together —” Aramis was panting and rocking, now, and Porthos’s grip looked so hard, it must hurt so much! But Aramis grinned and pulled out of d’Artagnan’s mouth, one hand grasping his spit-slick cock as he spent all over d’Artagnan’s face, some going in his mouth. “There — just like before,” he gasped, as a thick streak landed in d’Artagnan’s long hair. “Your turn now, little brother.” 

Anne slid her fingers through the mess on d’Artagnan’s face, wiping some between his lips as she pushed her fingers into his mouth. He rubbed his tongue against the pads of her fingers, licking the spend off them, and pulled his legs up behind her, dislodging Athos and planting his heels on the edge of the bed. Hands grasping her hips tight, d’Artagnan fucked up into Anne hard, abandoning the last vestiges of control and just taking her, pulling her down against him as he spent deep within her body, looking so young with his head tossing and eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy.

D’Artagnan’s moving hips slowed and then stopped, tension leaving his body as he opened his eyes and brushed his fingers over Anne’s cheek, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Thank you,” he whispered. “That was — you felt so good. I hope you know how incredible you are.” Anne dipped down to kiss him, tasting Aramis’s spend still on his lips, and then leaned back and stretched.

“I could say the same to you,” Anne replied. “I’ve never felt anything like this. I keep wondering what else you might be able to teach me.” Anne knelt up, lifting herself off d’Artagnan, and then moved over to one side.

“I hope we have an opportunity to find out,” Athos said from behind her. Anne turned to see that Athos had stepped away from the bed, and was washing his face in a basin of water. He dried himself off and then returned, unlacing his trousers as he stalked towards the bed, those piercing blue eyes intensely focused on hers. When he reached the bed, he let his clothes drop to the floor and stepped out of them, crawling up and kneeling behind Anne, sliding his cock under her body to rub against her sex, letting one thumb slide down to caress the curve of her ass, skating the tip of his thumb across her sensitized hole. Then he backed away, drawing a surprised sound from Aramis, still lying on the bed, as Athos stretched out on his back between Aramis and d’Artagnan.

“Anne has given us much, today, and… I would serve my Queen.” Athos held his hands out to Anne, guiding her to throw one leg over his hips and settle down on top of him. “How is that? All right?” Anne looked down at him, seeing the depth of emotion in his face, understanding what he was asking for, and offering.

“Athos. So caring, so willing to give everything to do your duty. Are you sure you’re ready for this? Ready to give me everything I need?” Anne slid her dripping cunt up and down the length of Athos’s cock, revelling in the hard heat and teasing them both with the feel of her clit gliding against him as much as she was with her words. “Ready to give your Queen everything she demands?”  
  
“Yes, my Queen,” Athos’s voice was already shaky, though his hands were steady as he stroked up her thighs and encircled her waist. “I will give you everything I have.”  

“All right,” Anne said, pausing at the top of her stroke up Athos’s cock. “But... don’t spend until I have.” With that, she tilted her hips just so and slid smoothly all the way down onto Athos’s cock, sitting up straight and taking a moment to adjust. Anne’s cunt was getting a bit sore now, swelling and puffing up some, and Athos’s cock was thick, so thick, stretching her open even after so much stimulation.

“You’re perfect,” Porthos told Anne, holding Aramis from behind, watching them all. “You’ve taken us so well today. I couldn't believe you were even suggesting it, didn’t know if you’d go through with it, but you did, and you’re amazing, beautiful, so strong —” Anne cut him off with a moan, legs tensing and relaxing as she slid up and down on Athos’s dick, riding him hard.

“Our Porthos is correct,” Aramis declared, sated and practically glowing in Porthos’s arms. “You’re a vision, Anne, my Queen, you’re our Goddess, we will worship you forever.” Anne rode harder, rising up off Athos only to slam back down, over and over. His thick cock was hot inside her, impossibly hard and so very good, and her puffy lips rubbed against his body every time she pressed down against him.

D’Artagnan spoke up next, laid out on Athos’s other side, his hand gliding over her back, light touches that sparked all through her body. “We would do anything for you, give everything to you.” Anne moaned again, her hands roaming from Athos’s shoulders to his chest, feeling his nipples hard under her palms. “We’re yours, everything about us is yours, all yours.” Anne scratched at Athos’s chest, bouncing in his lap as his hands caressed her thighs, her ass, up her sides to her breasts and back down again.

“Please,” Athos begged suddenly, staring up into Anne’s eyes, “please take me, own me, let me give this to you!” His hands settled on her hips and Athos squeezed, not trying to direct or control her body, just feeling it, helping her ride him. “You are my Queen, yes, in every way possible, please let me _serve_ —”

“That’s just what you’re doing, my loyal servant.” Anne’s cunt was flexing around Athos’s dick, now, she was so wet, and full, and she felt more full and hot every time she praised Athos, every time she spoke to him as though he truly did belong to her. “You’re mine, and I’ll have everything — oh, right there — everything I need from you. Everything!”

“Yes!” D’Artagnan sounded so joyful, so glad. “Ride Athos, take him, that’s what he’s here for!”

“Please,” Athos begged again, “Please, let me make you spend, let me give you _my_ spend, give you a child — ” Athos was rocking his hips up, finally fucking Anne back as she ground her hips down against his, and Anne felt the now-familiar sensations building up, the shivers under her skin and in her hair and deep within her cunt. She tensed up her thighs and rubbed her clit hard against the scratchy hairs at the base of Athos’s cock, throwing her head back and screaming as she came hard, _hard_ , clenching around him over and over. Athos rode her through it, not stopping or slowing, moving her hips with his hands when she lost the rhythm.

“Now,” Anne was breathless, felt like she was floating, knew she was nearly done but needed just one more thing. “Now, Athos, spend for me!” Anne bent forward to kiss him, pressing her breasts to his chest, licking those skilled, scarred lips, and Athos shouted, spurting into Anne’s cunt immediately, holding her a little bit raised so he could fuck up into her over and over, fast and hard and deep.

At last Athos was entirely spent, and his hips stilled, though his hands still caressed Anne's legs, abdomen, back... everywhere he could reach without moving either of them. It was soothing, and she was glad that Athos knew enough about what she was experiencing to give this kind of touch without being told to do so. After such an intense day, and demanding so much, Anne wasn't sure if she could ask these men for even one more thing.

As it happened, she didn't need to. Athos gently pulled out and laid her down on the bed, and together they all built a nest of blankets and pillows around her. D’Artagnan and Porthos made a trip to the kitchen for more food, while Aramis and Athos cleaned Anne and then themselves with soft cloths and warm water. Eventually they were all back in the bed, Aramis and Athos sharing a fresh pipe full of _hashish_ — d’Artagnan had promised to remain vigilant for the rest of the evening, and Porthos would take the first watch that night, but they would all have a few hours of peace together, first.

Curled up safe in bed, Anne almost couldn't believe that she'd really done it, that she'd taken — _fucked_ — four men, none of whom were her husband. And they were experienced men of the world, the finest of the King’s Musketeers, but they had looked at her like she was better than anyone they'd ever known before, more captivating and alluring and powerful than any other woman. If this worked, if she had a son to cement her position as well as the loyalty of these amazing men, then Anne would truly be the Queen she had always known she could be. Nothing would stand in her way.

* * *

They were lined up before Treville again, in his office, as their Captain stood in his customary place behind his desk. Queen Anne had been returned to her palace, and the usual post-mission debrief was nearly at an end. 

“I was very pleased with the report from Her Majesty regarding your conduct. My concerns seem to have been unfounded, as I am informed that you all behaved with the loyalty and diligence that has always been expected of Musketeers.”

Athos pointedly did not look to see if d’Artagnan was smirking at the memory of just how diligent they had been.

“In fact,” Captain Treville continued, “Queen Anne was so impressed with your service that she has requested your presence on next week’s trip to Lourdes.” 

Smiles broke out and were quickly stifled as all four men attempted to remain professional.

“The only thing I'm not clear on is why she also indicated that I am to join you. A Captain doesn't usually act as protective escort… But I'm sure she had her reasons. That will be all for now; report back here tomorrow morning for orders. I think you've earned yourselves a free evening.” 

Athos led the other three down the stairs and to the common table in the Garrison courtyard. “Somehow I don't feel like drinking tonight.”

“And, I know this isn't like me,” Porthos said, “but I'm not really hungry.”

“We could go to a brothel,” Aramis suggested, “but … I'm not quite in the mood.”

“Well,” d’Artagnan looked around at his brothers. “What do you all expect? When you've had the best, nothing else will do. We'll just have to wait and see what happens on next week’s trip.”

“Yes,” Athos agreed, “and we’ll find out whether our Captain can keep up with our Queen.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I am on tumblr if you want to say hi.


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